Begining
by Excess
Summary: Just a short bit of fluff I wrote for a contest on gaia. please review.Ryobakura


Warning: Slash and a bit of violence.

Author: Andrince

This is a yu-gi-oh fic with Ryo/Bakura.

Ryo groaned out loud as he saw the flame of a not-so-tiny bon fire thorough the glass of his back door.

A tall, white-haired fair-skinned boy was leaning over the blaze, poking it with what appeared to be a metal kitchen chair leg. Ryo immediately regretted leaving for the 20 minuets took to pick up the take-out. But what was he supposed to do? With Bakura refusing to eat anything that was made with the kitchen appliances.

Bakura, who rarely slept before the morning hours had been making pop-tarts at about 4 this morning when the accident had occurred. He knows he's supposed to ask for help, Ryo thought bitterly.

As far as Ryo could tell Bakura had apparently gotten impatient waiting for his food to be heated. When he couldn't get the poor innocent toaster to release the pop-tarts by pounding it upside-down on the counter, he stuck his fingers into the burning hot toaster to retrieve his food.

Ryo heared the screams and after a groggy couple of moments he realized what he was hearing and bolted downstairs. Bakura had somehow managed to trap his middle finger in the burning hot toaster. He was howling in pain on the floor, the toaster still attached.

"Help! It's got me," he yelled angerly as soon as he had spotted Ryo.

About the time I was getting pushed by Bakura for trying to bandage his burnt and smashed finger tip the door bell rang. Cringing at the memory of trying to explain to the policewhy a boy in his late teens didn't quite get using a toaster I slid the glass back door open. Bakura had added something to the fire that had produced a lot of black smoke and I felt I had to investigate.

At least one good thing had come from the fire, Bakura no longer seemed angry. In fact he was poking at thfire with the now confirmed kitchen chair leg with childish glee.

He had been upset all day, banging up ad down the hallway, screaming how it had attacked him. He refused to let me badage his finger and called the injury his 'bite' while telling me often how he suspected the toaster "fangs" were poisoness. He had put his foot through my tv set when I stoped paying attention to him to catch part of my soaps. After that hebroke the already repaired china fgures that sit on the tv stand.

As I approached the pit in which the fire sat I noticd that his fingers were bandaged with what look supiciusly like bits of the sitting sitting room curtan.

He noticed me coming and gave me a very satifiyed grin before jabing deep in to the fires base with the chair leg. He poked at it a bit befor pulling somethingout of the fire. He droped it to the ground with a loud thud. Laying about two feet away from the blaze was my toaster.

Burnt mostly black, parts of it melting, and still slightly on fire. I'm not sure if I sat or fell down, but I was on the ground now still staring in disbelief at what was once my toaster.

"See," Bakura said proudly. "Got to make an exsample out of him, the others wont dare try anything now! Once the see what he got."

The sound of Bakura's voice seemed to bring me out of my shock. I narrow my eyes and glare daggers at my dark.

"What now!" he yells now spearing slices of bolonga on the chair leg.

"You're always getting mad at me!" He said accusingly as he began to roast the bolonga.

I looked at the fire a moment, angry tears warm in my eyes. It wasburning on some newspapers, a few books, leaves, twigs, and with a jolt of horror I realised, my tomato plants. Now I knew what all that smoke was coming from, my tomato plants were curling in the fire. I had a wild urge to grab the sizzling plants out, but I just sat there.

About ten minutes past before anyone said anything, Bakura spoke first.

"Still mad at me?" He said while ploping down next to me and munching on the chared pieces of lunch meat.

"You always ruin everything I own!" I say near hisryrics.

"I don;t know why I put up with you!" I choke out the last part while wiping my eyes angerly.

"'cause," he begins as if he was telling me the very obvious answer to a stupid question. "You need me to help and protect you,'cause you're weak and wimpy."

I start to say smmething but he puts his face close to mine and I close my mouth.

"And you love me," he grins before kissing me.

He stands up and gathers something off the ground before starting back for the house.

"Plus you think I'm sexy, which of course I am," he say bragingly as he opens the back door, burnt bolonga in one hand, ruined toaster in the other.

I sigh as I get up with the intention of stoping the fire and a mental note to clip the on the toaster so he can't plug it in.

The end.

Just a short I wrote for a contest on gaia.


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